


The First Mission

by VeronicaFerCard



Series: Aftermaths of War [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/M, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 09:45:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8200558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeronicaFerCard/pseuds/VeronicaFerCard
Summary: Three months after the wedding the Avengers are assembled to defend the world against yet another threat. And Steve discovers that retirement is easier said than done.





	

_“Be soft. Do not let the world make you hard. Do not let pain make you hate. Do not let the bitterness steal your sweetness. Take pride that even though the rest of the world may disagree, you still believe it to be a beautiful place.”_

**-Kurt Vonnegut, Jr**

The TV woke him up. Bucky patted the right side of the bed before opening his eyes and confirmed what he’d already suspected. He was alone. He got up and put on the first pair of pajama pants he found on the floor. They were a little too tight on his waist. Steve’s then.

Predictably, Bucky found Steve glued to the television on their living room.

They had decided to return to Brooklyn after a month of honeymoon, and thankfully – or maybe not – they had shared their new address with Tony beforehand and Stark had the whole place furnished before Steve and Bucky even landed on American soil.

He was still a bit weird out about how well Tony and he had been getting along. It went against all odds, but then again, so did most of Bucky’s life. 

And while Bucky wasn’t as clueless with modern technology as people liked to assume, he did think the television was a bit on the large side for their living room. Either way, neither Steve nor he made much use of it. They both had – and new how to use (perhaps the biggest surprise for the Avengers was how quick they both adapted to new things or situations) – laptops and tablets, and they just preferred to watch stuff in bed.

Steve’s laptop was closed, sitting on the coffee table in front of him. That alone was prove of how his head was miles away, otherwise he would have picked the computer and used headphones to make sure Bucky wouldn’t wake up. But Steve’s attention was entirely directed to what was playing on the screen.

Bucky was pretty sure Steve hadn’t even seen him yet.

He was about to announce his presence when he caught a glance of what Steve was watching.

A red and gold blur crossed the screen and it was soon followed by an explosion; the sound only loud enough for their enhanced hearings to catch.

Bucky suppressed a sigh. Damn Wilson! Sam was supposed to send Bucky a text the next time the Avengers were assembled, so that he’d be prepared when the news eventually hit Steve. Bucky knew that despite of what he had said, it would not be easy for Steve to just ignore what was happening once his friends were in action.

How _Steve_ had known what was going on was probably an unfortunate coincidence. Bucky sure as hell wasn’t the only one suffering from insomnia in that house.

He made sure to make as much noise as possible as he walked over to sit down next to Steve. Even then, it took a few seconds for Bucky to be acknowledged.

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Steve said, not really turning to face Bucky, though. He was tense as piano wire, with his fists drawn tight on his lap.

Bucky used his metal hand to gently release Steve’s death grip on both hands. “Hey pal, look at me,” he coaxed. Steve remained rigid for a few more seconds before he complied.

“I can’t watch this,” he confessed.

“Then turn off of the television.” Bucky tried for a sympathetic smile, but it didn’t go anywhere near his eyes.

Steve huffed and shook his head. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Bucky drawled, “but we can talk about it tomorrow morning.” He picked the remote control from the coffee table and was about to switch the TV off, but Steve caught his wrist before he could do it.

“I should be there, Buck—”

“Steve—” Bucky interrupted, trying to avoid the argument. Steve released his hand and he put the remote back on its place.

The TV remained on.

“It’s not right… to stay here and do nothing while they—”

“That’s the choice you made, Rogers,” Bucky snapped, a little bit harsher then he intended to. Steve shot him a betrayed look and he apologized. “Sorry. Look –” He tried to even his breath for a couple of seconds before continuing, “You can’t go out there, they’ll arrest you. The world’s not gonna be this forgiven the second time around, Steve. Or worse, they’ll actually take you back!” Bucky felt like the two of them had had that same conversation before. He realized a moment later that that was indeed the case.

The pained expression on Steve’s face just increased with Bucky’s words. He gestured at the television where Sam was fighting something indistinguishable on the sky. The headlines on the bottom of the screen were saying something about robots. “I can’t just turn a blind eye, they’re our _friends_.”

“But you said—” He had known, then. That Steve’s words would be a lot easier said than done, but he had hoped, _damn,_ he had _hoped._ They were supposed to be turning a new leaf on the immense weird book holding their story. A new page to be filled with something that wouldn’t end up in blood and tears.

Bucky liked the Avengers, he really did. But he loved Steve a hell of a lot more.

“I know, Buck. I know what I said, but perhaps I was wrong.”

Bucky shook his head, exasperated. “You’re not wrong, Steve. You’re stubborn.”

Steve exhaled a long breath and turned his attention back to the screen. He was silent for about a minute, and then the person who was stupid enough to be out there filming the Avengers changed the camera angle; just in time to catch one of the sort of robot-mannequin things deliver a punch straight to Natasha’s stomach, sending her flying out of the shot.

“Motherfucker,” Steve barked, low and dangerous as he kicked the coffee table several feet away.

Bucky almost laughed. His mind went back to a day back in Wakanda when Tony had dared Steve to something stupid that the punk had obviously agreed to, and Steve had ended up falling off a tree; letting out a string of colorful swears as he did so.

Tony’s scandalized face would be forever in Bucky’s memory. It took a few minutes for Bucky to get out of him what was that about, and then Tony, like a five-year-old, pointed at Steve and mumbled “bad words”.

Bucky had cracked right then and there.

Those people really did _not_ know Stevie at all.

Not that he made a habit of it, mind you, but whenever he was frustrated or angry with himself, Rogers had a mouth on him that could make a sailor blush.

There was no laugh this time, though. Because Bucky had some serious talking down to do if he wanted his husband to stay home right now.

“You know she’s strong,” he said softly, his eyes locked on Steve. “You know they all are.”

“I know, but –” Steve shook his head, glancing down at his arms. “I was _made_ for this fight, Buck,” he tried to argue.

“Wrong,” Bucky countered. “You were made for a different fight, one that you’ve already won, by the way.”

Steve shot a pointed look at his metal arm. “You are living proof that I didn’t.” He looked defeated, and Bucky’s heart ached for him. “Look, if you don’t wanna fight—” Steve started, but Bucky didn’t want to go down that road.

“I never did, you know that.”

“You don’t have to. But I’m—”

“And what do you think I’m gonna do, Steve?” Bucky cut him, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Sit around and wait to see if you’ll come back.”

“Buck—” Steve tried to chime in, but he wasn’t done.

“Look, I don’t wanna fight ever again, if I can help it. But if you go out there I’ll be right after you covering your six like always.” Steve should really know that by now.

But Steve just pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut. “Don’t put me in that position,” he pleaded.

“I’m not trying to manipulate you. But I –” Bucky hesitated; he really didn’t want to play Steve; to play dirty or toy with his feelings. But he felt like he needed to open his heart to Steve now, he’d failed to do that once and Steve wound up in a war. “I’m not as strong as you, Stevie. It _will_ break me if I lose you.”

Steve’s features softened after that. His entire body did. He turned on the couch until he was facing Bucky, and then brought a hand up to cup Bucky’s face.

“I love you,” he whispered, while his thumb slowly caressed Bucky’s left cheek.

Bucky turned his face to plant a kiss on Steve’s palm. “I love you, too.” He leaned forward until his forehead was resting on Steve’s. “Please, Steve,” he begged, because he wasn’t above it, he had never been where Steve was concerned. Steve’s hold on him tightened but he didn’t say anything. “ _Please_.”

Steve let out a shaky breath. “I don’t _want_ to fight for the rest of my life,” he confessed, his eyes shut tight. “But I don’t think I can ignore it. What if something happens? What if something happens to one of _them_?”

“Ok first,” Bucky brought his hands to hold Steve’s face as well. “If there’s anything real bad going on, the United Nations themselves will be in our doorsteps _begging_ for your help.” Steve snorted, Bucky only smiled a little. “Second, those people signed up for this. They’re capable and they don’t need you to babysit them.”

“You saying I have to respect their choices?” Steve asked in an amused tone Bucky couldn’t identify the source of.

He considered for a moment before answering, “Yeah, I guess.”

“That’s exactly what Peggy told me after you fell.” Steve opened his eyes and leaned back a little, putting some distance between them as their hands fell back to their sides. “I fucking blame myself so much, Bucky.” He sighed. “There are so many things I feel I should’ve done.”

“You ain’t god, Steve. You can’t control everything. Look,” he turned Steve’s attention back to the television. “The idiot behind the camera’s still alive. So it’s probably not as bad as it looks.”

A minute passed, and then two. Then, with one more pained look at the television, Steve screwed his eyes shut and finally relented. “Turn it off.”

Bucky did so. He had to get up because the remote control was several feet away where Steve had kicked the coffee table. When he sat back down he scooted closer until he was plastered to Steve’s side. “C’mere,” he coaxed as he threw an arm over Steve’s shoulders.

Steve went willingly and Bucky rested his chin on the top of the blond mop of. For a few moments he just breathed Steve’s scent, closing his eyes and taking it in. There were times, when he woke up from a nightmare or when he just couldn’t sleep, that Bucky still had to repeat to himself that they were both here, that Steve was by his side; that they were _together_.

He planted a soft kiss on Steve’s head, and Steve let out a puff of air on his neck. It tickled and made the hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck stand to attention. He breathed a short laugh.

Rogers, being the little shit that he was, did it again. Just to rile Bucky up.

Bucky broke the embrace and playfully pushed Steve out of him. “Stop that,” he complained, even though they both knew he didn’t mean it.

Steve shrugged, trying, and fucking falling, to look all innocent. “You’re the one who said I shouldn’t focus on what’s happening,” Steve had the nerve to accuse. That shit might cut with his twenty first century worshippers, but it sure as hell wouldn’t impress Bucky. He could see right through Roger’s bullshit.

Bucky smirked wickedly at him. “You saying you need a distraction, Rogers?” Technically, they were both Rogers-Barnes ( _Yes, we know what hyphening is and we’re doing it, Tony_ ) now, but they had spent most their lives calling each other Rogers and Barnes whenever they were mad with one another or up to something. Neither of them was keen to break tradition.

Steve’s answer came on the form of a lopsided smirk and a raised eyebrow. And though Bucky knew full well that this was far from the end of that argument, they could at least pretend for a little while; seek reassurance and some kind of peace on each other’s arms. Just like they’ve done it thousand times before.

He cupped the back of Steve neck and brought him closer, locking their lips together as soon as he was within reach.  Steve’s hands came to rest on his shoulders as they both melted into the kiss. It was softy, unhurried. There was nothing but time ahead of them, and Bucky intended to make the most of it.

He leaned forward until Steve had no option other than to lie down on the sofa, Bucky on top of him. He broke the kiss to look at Steve, seeking confirmation.

Steve’s penetrating blues glanced up at him with so much emotion Bucky almost chocked.

“Steve?” He had no idea what he was asking, but he felt like he had to know. Why was Steve looking at him as if the world was ending and he wanted Bucky to be the last thing he saw?

“It’s you,” Steve whispered. His right hand was buried on Bucky’s hair, holding it out of the way while at the same time massaging his skull with the tips of his fingers. Bucky swallowed hard, but said nothing as he waited for Steve to continue. But instead of saying anything Steve brought his other hand to rest over Bucky’s chest. Over his heart. 

It beat faster under Steve’s warm palm.

“You’re the reason I wake up every morning,” Steve confessed at last.

Bucky shook his head. “Don’t say that.” Steve had never depended on anyone. He was a free spirit, Bucky didn’t want to take that away from him.

“You are,” Steve reaffirmed. “I always want to be the best version of me because of you.” Bucky let out a shaky breath as Steve tightened the hold on his hair, though he was pretty sure his reaction had more to do with the words than the pressure. “You give me hope, Buck.” Steve glanced at him through long lashes before he spoke in a soft tone, “I wanna give my best, cos that’s what you inspire me.”

“Shut up, punk,” Bucky argued. “You’re good on you own terms.”

Steve shook his head, frustrated. “You like me for who I am, don’t you?” Bucky nodded. “See, turning my back on people is not me. How can you—”

“How can I love you?” Bucky finished the question for him. “Steve, I’ve loved you through the Depression, I’ve loved you through hunger and poverty. I’ve loved you through sickness, through bloody noses, through tears. Loved you when the whole world told me I couldn’t. Loved you when I didn’t know myself. When I didn’t know _you_. Nothing made me stop.” He enveloped the hand over his heart with his metal one, squeezing it against his chest. “ _Nothing_ will.”

Bucky had to blink against the tears threatening to spill.

“There’s every reason to love you. Or there’s no reason.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, Steve. I ain’t a poet.” Bucky smiled shyly. “All I know is that I do.” He could feel that Steve still needed some sort of reassurance, though. Not about his love, he knew Steve didn’t doubt that. But there was more to Steve’s world than just Bucky these days. “And _they_ do, too. They’re out there fighting for a world where we can finally live our lives, Steve. Don’t take that from them.”

“I’m not,” Steve said. “I just feel –” He closed his eyes, sighing as he did. “I’m tired, Buck,” he confessed. “But if I don’t fight how can I make sure the people I love are safe?”

“Open your eyes,” Bucky asked gently, and waited for Steve to do so. “There are capable people who can do that.” He grinned down at Steve. “Perhaps you know them, they’re this obnoxious group.” There was a hint of a smile on Steve’s face. Bucky wanted more. “Call themselves the Avengers.”

Steve let out a soft chuckle.

“It will be okay,” Bucky promised. That was something his shrink had told him he should repeat to himself whenever he felt down. It would be okay. Maybe not right then. It could take a while or a long time. But things would work out. He just had to be patient. He just had to keep going. One step at a time.

“How can you be so sure?” The smile slipped from Steve’s face. He looked small; Bucky wasn’t used to seeing that look on his face.

“Because we want it to be,” he answered. “It’s not simple, or easy. But we can do a lot, Stevie. We always could.”

In reply Steve used the hand on Bucky’s head to bring him down for a sweet kiss. They both smiled into it.

“I believe you,” Steve whispered against Bucky’s lips after some time. He ran his hand down Bucky’s chest and Bucky shivered at the feather like touch. “You’re so beautiful, I ever tell you that?”

And Bucky, despite a literal lifetime together, blushed at the words. He bent down and began a lazy trail of kisses on Steve’s neck, mostly so he could hide his face.

The hand on his hair started a thorough exploration on Bucky’s back, while his own traced small patterns over Steve’s ribs. Bucky mapped the smooth expense of skin. Steve was warm against his human hand. The metal one wasn’t cold, but still made Steve’s breath hitch in its wake.

They moved no further for a long time, both content with sharing kisses, exploring with hands and mouths every bit of skin they could touch. But after some time Bucky wanted more. And not just because of the matching bulges on both their pants. It wasn’t about release.

He wanted to make Steve feel good. He wanted to make him feel loved and safe. 

Bucky leaned forward to plant a kiss on Steve’s forehead. “Love you,” he said, right before his lips touched one of Steve’s cheeks, and then the other. “And I’m not the only one.” He offered Steve a small, private smile before giving him a quick peck on the tip of his nose.

Steve chuckled. “Buck.”

Bucky gently placed a finger over Steve’s still smiling lips. “My turn, okay?” Bucky looked up. Steve’s eyes were huge, his pupils blown wide. He nodded.

He resumed his trail of kisses, this time to Steve’s neck and down his collarbone.

“You have a family full of people who care about you. People that wanna see you happy.” He grinned up at Steve. “You have your ma up there shaking her head every time you do something stupid.” Another kiss, this time over Steve’s heart. “Good thing I promised her to keep an eye on you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” Bucky nodded. “You’ve always put so much on your shoulders, baby.” He caressed Steve’s cheek with his right hand. “‘S time you realize you can share it.”

 Steve kissed his palm. He took a deep, shuddering breath before nodding.

Bucky went back to loving every part of Steve’s body. He kissed his way down until he reached the waistband of Steve’s shorts. Bucky’s shorts, actually. He looked up and Steve lifted up his hips in confirmation. Bucky slid the fabric down his legs slowly, following it with small kisses.

By the time he finally dropped the shorts on the floor Steve was shaking under him. Bucky took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. “God, you’re gorgeous, Stevie.” He ran his hands down Steve’s sides.

“Buck,” Steve whined.

And Bucky? Well, Bucky had never been able to resist Steve before. But like this? Completely displayed in front of him, his breathing coming hard, his pupils blown wide, his lips pink and puffed from where he’d been biting them. Some of Bucky’s kisses had left mark that would be gone come morning, but God! Right now Steven Grant Rogers-Barnes was the most beautiful sight on the whole damn world and Bucky would die if he didn’t touch him.

He leaned over to capture Steve’s lips again, the kiss a lot more urgent than any they had exchanged so far. Bucky used his tongue to open Steve’s mouth and seek refuge in it.

Steve dragged his short nails over Bucky’s back and they both groaned in unison as Steve’s hips snapped up against Bucky’s groin.

Steve brought his hands to Bucky’s waistband and Bucky lifted just enough for him to slid the pants down his thighs. Steve used his feet to push it the rest of the way down and Bucky kicked out somewhere behind the couch.

He rubbed against Steve without much finesse as Steve worked what felt like the mother of all hickeys on his neck.

“Baby, you gotta stop if you don’t wanna end too soon,” Steve purred in his ear, right before nipping Bucky’s earlobe.

Steve wasn’t big on pet names, neither of them was. Old habits. But when he _did_ use them. Oh, boy. Bucky lit up like a fucking Christmas tree. He quickly stood up and offered a hand out for Steve. “Bed?”

Once in the bedroom Bucky wasted no time. He got what he needed from the nightstand and resumed his place between Steve’s legs. He coated his fingers with lube and planted a kiss on the inside of Steve’s knee as he brought Steve’s leg up and over his shoulder.

Bucky took his time preparing him. He took Steve apart with his fingers and words of love. Tears were running slowly down Steve’s face by the time Bucky settled himself completely inside of him.

“Shh, I’m here for you, sweetheart,” Bucky said, kissing both Steve’s closed eyelids.

They kissed lazily, following the rhythm of Bucky’s thrusts.

Steve was sweet against his tongue, and Bucky swallowed down every moan that came from those plush lips.

“You’re everything.”

“I love you.”

Bucky was so lost on everything _Steve_ he couldn’t tell which one of them said what. He only knew the body under his was the most real thing he had ever held. He only knew the love they shared and he needed nothing else.

There were times he didn’t think he deserved Steve’s love. There was so much blood on his hands. But Steve was always quick to reassure him. And all Bucky wanted was for him to know that it was all mutual.

They were both idiots sometimes.

He snaked his right arm between their bodies to take Steve in hand. He tried to match the strokes to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Steve was panting hotly against his neck.

Bucky increased his tempo. They had been together long enough they both knew each other’s tell tales. They were both close.

Steve tipped the over edge mere seconds before Bucky.

When he came down from his high Bucky kissed Steve’s forehead lightly as he pulled out of him. He pushed the sweat damp blond hair away from Steve’s eyes, before lying next to him, supporting himself up with the metal arm. “How you feeling?” Bucky looked down at their bodies. They were a mess, but that could wait a little longer.

Steve smiled sleepily at him. “Like I lucked out on the husband pool.”

Bucky snorted, dropping down to lie next to Steve as the two stared at the ceiling. “You an’ me both, pal. You an’ me both.”

“Hey,” Steve called and Bucky turned his head to face him. “C’mere.” Bucky snuggled close to him, his head on Steve’s shoulder while Steve’s arm held him close. “Thank you.”

Bucky frowned up at him. “For sex?”

Steve shrugged with his free shoulder. “For everything.”

Bucky considered it, but he didn’t have anything else to say so he just nodded. He got up after a few more minutes in comfortable silence and headed to the bathroom, coming back with a damp cloth to clean them both. And since Steve was his mother’s boy they had to change the sheets before lying down on the bed again.

”I – I think I need help, Buck,” Steve broke the silence a few minutes later.

“You mean like me?” Bucky had an appointment with his Wakandan shrink every month. He knew that would probably go on for the rest of his life, but he didn’t mind it. Meds wouldn’t work on him and talking was actually quite healing. His therapist had made him face a lot of fears already; she had said they’d made huge progress on a very short time. Bucky had beamed when she told him she was proud of him.

He had never considered Steve doing it, though. Steve hadn’t needed a medic in such a long time – battle injuries apart – that Bucky had forgotten that there were things the serum couldn’t heal.

Tony had told him once how surprise he was that Bucky was even functional after everything he had been through, even if on the inside Bucky had been barely holding it together.

Since Steve had been on this world for longer, Bucky had assumed he had already dealt with his share of demons. Perhaps he hadn’t been paying enough attention.

Steve nodded. “I want to turn it off,” he explained, “this anger… this feeling that I’m not doing enough and all this shit keeps happening because of it.” He sighed. “I wanna come home from the war.”

Bucky tightened his hold on the hand he had draped over Steve’s middle. “I got your back, you know that. We can find someone together.” His mind was already planning the steps they could take. “I can ask my doc for a recommendation. Or maybe Sam knows someone…”

“Whoah,” Steve breathed a laugh at Bucky’s enthusiasm. But he quickly sobered up. “You really think it’d be good for me?”

“Course,” Bucky agreed. “It can help you find what you wanna do with your life, too. You know,” he smirked, “you shouldn’t be lazing about.” He got a smack on the ass for his troubles and chuckled.

“Jerk,” Steve yawned the curse. It was so adorable Bucky wanted to kiss him. So he did.

“Let’s get some shut eye, uh,” he suggested. “We can deal with anything else later.” Steve hummed in agreement, already slipping under.

Bucky himself was out as soon as he closed his eyes.

*

He woke up before Steve, which was a rarity in itself. But giving that he had barely slept for two hours when Bucky found him in the living room; it wasn’t much of a surprise that Steve was still dead to the world.

Also, Bucky thought as he looked at Steve’s peaceful sleeping form, Bucky had worked him pretty damn well last night. He would actually be offended had he woken up to an empty bed again.

Bucky contemplated going back to sleep and calling it a day, but he knew he had stuff to take care of. He had to know what happened to the Avengers. He couldn’t put it off any longer, and it would be better if he got the news before Steve. That way Bucky could break it to him gently, if he had to.

He got off the bed quietly and padded his way to the kitchen, fixing a cup of coffee before going to the living room and fishing his cellphone from the side table behind the couch.

Bucky scrolled down until he found Sam’s number and pushed the call button. It wasn’t too early that he could risk waking him up, though Bucky wasn’t really expecting Sam to pick up as soon as he did either, considering he had been battling all night.

“What’s up, Barnes?”

“Sam, hi. I – we saw the news. How are you guys doing?”

Over the line Sam heaved a sigh. “Man…” Bucky cringed, whatever it was didn’t sound good. Or maybe Sam was just tired, he tried to justify to himself. “I’m okay. Stark too.” Bucky let out the breath he’d been holding, but still didn’t allow himself to feel relief. Not yet. “T'challa had shit on his own country to solve,” Sam continued, “he wasn’t with us.”

Bucky could sense Sam was just biding his time. He hated suspense, and usually Sam was more forthcoming than this. “Alright, Wilson, now you can hit me with the bad news.”

“Shit, man. Well, Nat’s got some broken ribs." Ok, Bucky thought, that was to be expected, he saw how hard she had been hit. "Clint has a concussion, but that’s hardly news. Wanda broke her writs covering for him and Nat as he tried to get Nat to safety.”

Well, those all seemed very standard outcomes. Though Bucky was pretty sure Steve would find a way to blame himself for it, especially regarding Wanda. Steve was hardly _that_ older than her, but he still felt over protective about Maximoff. Not that Bucky could fault him, he was only a year older and he felt completely responsible for Steve.

He would worry about that later, though. First he had to get all the facts so that he could give Steve the reader’s digest version, minimizing worries and focusing on happy endings. Steve wasn’t an idiot, but anything Bucky could do to make him okay with his decision to leave the Avengers he would.

"What were those things, anyway? Robots?" He hoped Tony had nothing to do with that this time. Bucky had been in Greece when Ultron happened, he didn’t follow the events all that much because his head had been all over the place back then, but he remembered it hadn’t been pretty.

"Nah, they were just mannequins being controlled,” Sam explained. “We still don't know for sure who’s behind it but it doesn’t seem to be from Earth. And—" Sam hesitated. Bucky braced himself. "We have a casualty.”

“Who is it?"

The question didn’t come from Bucky. He startled and almost gave himself whiplash as he look back to see Steve standing behind him, pale as a ghost, his arms crossed over his chest, as tense as he had been when Bucky found him last night.

“Who is it?" Bucky repeated the question to Sam, not sure if he had caught it.

Steve didn’t move.

"Vision. They were looking for something. We didn’t know what it was until we found Vis... they... they were after the stone."

Bucky really, really didn’t want to call what he was feeling relief, but there was no other name for it.  Vision wasn’t technically human, though. And to be quite honest he would have felt a lot more if Sam had said they lost the spider kid Tony had adopted, or Bruce, or Scott.

He did feel bad for Tony. Stark had explained to him about Jarvis, Bucky knew Tony would miss his old friend. Though perhaps he could rebuild him or something, Stark had a knack for those things.

Wanda would also be pretty down, Bucky suspected. He remembered the way he’d seen her and Vision act around each other. It kind of creeped him out a little bit, but he wouldn’t judge. He remembered asking Sam about it.

“What’s the deal with Wanda and the purple man?” He had asked the day of his wedding as he observed Vision trying to teach Wanda to waltz.

 “Prince?”

 “I don’t think that’s his name,” Bucky had said, pointing with his champagne flute to the couple. He didn’t know Steve’s friends that well back then, at least not the ones who had sided with Stark on the Accords. No chance to exchange names during the fight.

“It seems like there’s something there, man,” Sam had said. “You didn’t see what happened at the airport. You and Steve had already left. You see, Wanda was…”

Sam had explained to Bucky about the accident with Rhodes.

 _She must be devastated,_ Bucky thought.

“Sam, I call you –” Bucky was about to end the call and try to make his own damage control with Steve, but Rogers beat him to it and took the phone from Bucky’s hand before he could finish the sentence.

“What happened?” Steve asked Sam.

Bucky could hear Sam’s voice as he recounted the events of the previous night. They had been called around midnight. Thor wasn’t with them. When the mannequins appeared they all had first turned to Tony thinking he was responsible again, and then Thor showed up and explained they were dealing with something outside Midgard. They had split.

They only found Vision hours later, when all the mannequins had collectively disabled and fallen down like puppets with their strings cut.

Tony was currently locked up with Pepper on his floor in Tower. Nobody knew yet if they could bring Vision back or not.

Steve thanked Sam after he finished and hung up before Sam could say anything else. He handed Bucky’s phone back to him.

“I’m going to the Tower,” Steve announced, as he headed to the bathroom.

Bucky followed him. “You remember our talk, right?” he asked as he leaned on the door frame. Steve stripped with his back to him and entered the shower. “Steve?”

“The first time I’m not there,” Steve finally replied. “Someone _dies_ , Buck.”

Bucky scoffed. “And things would’ve been different if you were there?”

“Maybe,” Steve argued.

“How exactly, Rogers?” Bucky could not believe Steve sometimes. And yeah, he knew this was coming, but Steve was way too bull-headed for his own good. “I fail to see that.”

“I said maybe,” Steve snapped, coming out of the quickest shower in history. Bucky just folded his arms and stared at him as Steve toweled himself dry. After a few seconds Steve finally stopped and looked at him. He sighed. “I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t mean—”

Bucky stepped forward. “I know.” Fighting with Steve only served to hurt them both, and it never got them anywhere. He put his hands on Steve’s hips. “You wanna check on ‘em? See for yourself how they’re doing?” Steve nodded. “I think they might be a bit tired right now, though. How about give ‘em some time to rest, uh?”

Steve considered. Bucky held his breath.

“Do you think they –” Steve began, after a few minutes. “You think they thought about me… that if I was there…”

Bucky shook his head. “You can’t think like that. And I’m sure as fuck not a single one of them blames you for anything.” Steve let out a shaky breath. Bucky stepped back and let his hands drop back to his sides to allow Steve to wrap the towel around his waist. He brush Steve’s wet hair out of his face. “It’s gonna be alright. I know you don’t wanna hear this right now. But it _will_.”

“Maybe Tony can – bring him back,” Steve said. He looked hopeful. Bucky thanked his lucky star and nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a smile. He leaned forward and kissed Steve’s temple. “Don’t beat yourself for it, uh.”

Steve snorted, shaking his head. “It’s hard not to,” he confessed.

“I know. But we can work on that.”

They were a damn good unit, the two of them. They had always been, since the first time they teamed up against Ricky O’Donnell, the school bully. Up until their last crisis with Steve’s coming out for the whole world during his trial. A lot of people said a lot of shit and Steve had broken some things out of rage. Not because of himself, though. But because he knew what he was going through was something a shit tone of people still had to go through every day, even nowadays.

Bucky had been mad right alongside of him, although he didn’t break anything. And together they had managed to channel Steve’s anger into something productive. Pepper Potts helped them set up a bunch of interviews and fundraises. It wasn’t a magic solution but it made the both of them feel better just to do something.

“I’m kinda hungry now, though. How about some breakfast?” Bucky suggested.

“Or,” Steve drawled. And damn if Bucky didn’t know exactly what was coming. “We could go for a run.”

So goddamn predictable. Bucky groaned, resigned to his fate. Running was Steve’s outlet, and it was certainly better than have him break things or hurt himself with his own words and overthinking. “Fiiiine. But bring your wallet. You’re buying me waffles after.”

Steve saluted. The asshole. “Sir, yes, sir,” he mocked as he headed for their bedroom to put on his clothes.

At least he was smiling. And the crises seemed averted for now. Bucky knew the self-doubt would come back later, when they see their friends, but for now he would enjoy the small victory.

*

A month later they were still investigating the alien attack. Nobody knew who had taken the infinity stone. And perhaps the Avengers would have to reassemble again soon, to go after it. Perhaps they would need Steve this time. Maybe even Bucky. Maybe the world _would_ actually ask them to step in. Bucky didn’t know.

But for now Steve was with him. For now they had peace and a nice future ahead of them. For now Bucky would go back to school, and start on his plan to out-engineer Stark on Mechanics, Electrical and Computer Science. For now Steve would meet regularly with his new psychologist and work on a century’s worth of self-issues. For now they would move forward with their lives a day at a time.

For now they would enjoy life after war, because they survived it. Twice. They deserved some rest. After all, who knew when the next one would come?


End file.
